His words sting, a familiar wound I’ve felt before. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want to begin Saturday morning this way. I want to go back to riding the magic carpet high of peaceful communication.

But a faint whisper reminds me of my commitment to inner freedom.

For some time, there is a tug of war between thoughts, emotions, and body sensations.

He doesn’t know me.He doesn’t understand me.He doesn’t love me.

Now hold on and wait a minute, Kaveri. Don’t you think that last thought is stretching it a bit? I get that you’re feeling angry and hurt. But do you really believe he doesn’t love you?​Planning my words carefully as if I’m at the UN trying to draft a peace treaty between two warring nations, I rehearse what I might say.

You have a right to your opinion, but I know who I am. I’m a mother who cares about packing a healthy snack containing protein and carbs for our daughter’s Middle School Bike Skills training camp.

I realize that statement still sounds pretty self-righteous. I’m not ready yet to feel the long face or heavy heart. Maybe silence is best for now. I kiss our daughter good bye but turn away from him as he is leaving to ride with her.

On a hike at Foothill Park, I listen to Tara Brach’s talk on Stress and Everyday Nirvana Part 2. I surrender to the body sensations as thoughts and feelings fade into the background. With the wilderness and a wild emotional heart as witness, I contemplate Tara’s words.

A problem can be a portal to freedom.

I place hands on my belly and heart and hear the voice again caught on a summer breeze. The first time I heard these words was in meditation a few days ago.

drum beating heart and twisted guta hand on each, listeningtill there is nothing left to saybut I’m here and I love you

****

Father and daughter return from Middle School Bike Skills training camp in the early afternoon. Trusting the body sensations more than thoughts/feelings to be my portal to freedom:

He does know me.He does understand me.He does love me.

What if his statement, “You’re being overly anticipatory.”, was just a statement? What if it reflected more of his preference in packing snacks for the bike training camp? What if he wasn’t saying that I am one big giant blob of anxiety - bones nourished by the blood of a primitive biology? Who could I be?

I could be a woman transformed by these practices of mindfulness and heartfulness, moving from anxiety to acceptance under a canopy of guardian trees.​A problem can be a portal to freedom.